His Wicked Smile Read online

  “I haven’t decided what I want to do yet. Wasn’t sure of the lay of the land, you understand. I had a letter that said Matilda had all but died with the boy’s birth, you know, but she’s blooming now. I never cared for freckles, but on her they are charming.”

  Bliven’s mischievous smile made Gawain want to growl. He set his glass aside. “Why did you ever court her at all?”

  Bliven shrugged and those damn curls of his fell over his brow. “I was meant to take a look at your twin, you know, Alys. I can’t quite explain how things went the way they did with Matilda. I suppose I had an itch to scratch and she was all kinds of willing.”

  With a smirk, Bliven stood to stir the fire. When it was leaping to his satisfaction, he set the poker down. Gawain’s blood boiled hotter by the second, fueled by sheer rage and family insult. When Bliven turned back again, grinning at him with those merry eyes, Gawain leapt to his feet and slammed his fist into the man’s jaw. Bliven fell back into the armchair, a look of astonishment on his face.

  Without another word, Gawain stormed out the door and into the stable yard, shaking his hand free of the pain. He found his horse and mounted, then headed back to the Farm. Why were some men so unwilling to deal with the consequences of their actions? Perhaps he shouldn’t have hit Bliven, but no sane man would have been provoked to a different response.

  The next day, he hung around all morning and into the early afternoon, gratified to see that Bliven had not made another appearance. He spent the time consulting with his father and twin about aspects of the Redcakes’ businesses that touched upon each other’s interests. Only Hatbrook noticed his swollen knuckles.

  “Took care of him in a direct fashion?” he asked after luncheon.

  “A momentary lapse of civility,” Gawain said.

  “But a reasonable one. Do you want me to take you to the train in the trap?”

  “I wonder why you don’t have one of Lewis’s horseless carriage contraptions down here. The roads are good enough.”

  “No mechanic,” Hatbrook said. “Judah says they are forever needing repairs.”

  Gawain felt himself smiling. If the carriage hadn’t broken last year, he’d never have met Ann. Noel would never have been born. “Just a challenge for a mechanic.”

  “If I run across a good man, I’ll have to commission a carriage from Lewis.” Hatbrook rang for a footman to go to the stable and have the trap brought around.

  An hour later, Gawain had said his goodbyes to his family and was on the way to the station with Hatbrook.

  “It has not escaped your attention that no one is discussing your engagement,” Hatbrook said.

  “Out of sensitivity for Matilda, no doubt,” Gawain said. “What with Bliven prowling around.”

  “Or out of distaste.”

  “If my family forgets its humble beginnings, I shall be pleased to remind them,” Gawain growled. “Ten years ago, if I’d found myself an inn owner the family would have been thrilled, no matter the color of her skin.”

  “You’ve quite given up on Beth,” Hatbrook said, snapping the reins.

  Gawain saw a muscle twitch in his cheek. “We’ll never give up on finding her, but marriage is certainly off the table. You’ll understand when you meet Mrs. Haldene.”

  “When you marry you’ll have no time to go to Scotland anymore.” Hatbrook held his body rigidly, and didn’t look at Gawain.

  “Judah has continued to travel and so have I. Be glad that I have business interests there now. It’s another reason to visit.”

  “I wonder if Beth is even in Scotland anymore.”

  Gawain stared at his hands. The left one was too swollen to fit in his usual gloves and it was now red with cold. “I have begun to doubt it myself. I must say, I have no faith in inquiry agents.”

  “All this reminds me of Judah in India, back when we thought he was dead. He wasn’t though. It was all a misunderstanding. I just have to hope that in the end this resolves in the same way. The family reunited, everyone happy.”

  “And unsuitable marriages all around.”

  Hatbrook’s hands clenched around the reins and then relaxed. “The good news is Alys and I are happy, and so are Judah and Magdalene. I wish the same for you and your Mrs. Haldene.”

  “The heart knows what society does not,” Gawain said.

  “Or intelligent people can make the best of things. Luckily, neither my brother nor I have a great deal of interest in the fashionable world. Of the four of us, only Magdalene does.”

  “Has that been a problem?” Lord Judah seemed happy enough.

  “I’m sure there are compromises.”

  “I understand they only go out one night a week. That way Magdalene can see people and Lord Judah gets enough sleep.”

  “A good compromise.”

  He would be giving up some of his future dreams in exchange for a son. And for a woman he lusted after. Still, he hung some hope on the Queen’s fascination with India, keeping the door from shutting entirely on his plans.

  “At any rate, don’t give up on Beth. This summer, I hope to go up to Scotland myself, and see if a marquess can rattle any gates.”

  “We won’t give up until we find her,” Gawain said as the trap pulled up to the station. He offered Hatbrook his hand.

  “Thank you for coming down,” Hatbrook said. “I’ll keep tabs on Theodore.”

  “I’ll let you know if he approaches me again.”

  “Please do. And I hope the new medicine works. You seem to be walking a bit better.”

  “Mrs. Haldene,” Gawain said. “She’s an accomplished healer.”

  “That is worth a great deal to you,” Hatbrook said. “I look forward to hearing more details.”

  “I’m going to go to her home tonight and try to coax a wedding date out of her.” Gawain clamped his hat to his head as the wind gusted. “I’ve got to go if I want to catch the train.”

  Hatbrook lifted his hand in goodbye, and turned the horses as Gawain moved into the station, already focusing his thoughts on London.

  At five PM, he descended upon Catherine Street, carrying a receiving blanket and rattle he’d found in a shop, as well as a small cooked joint he’d bought. The warm package kept his hands toasty and it would make a good dinner too. He navigated the steps painfully after the landlady announced him.

  Ann opened the door. “Well, hello. I thought we would see you yesterday.”

  “I apologize. I had to go down to my twin’s home in Sussex for a couple of days.”

  She stepped aside so he could enter. He stooped to kiss her cheek, even though she hadn’t exactly invited it. Still, she was his fiancée.

  She smiled at him. “That was unexpected?”

  Good. The kiss had been welcome. “Yes. But it resulted in me being even more certain that we must marry soon. We can get a license to marry in fifteen days, or have banns called, which will take closer to a month, I suppose.”

  “We can discuss it later.” She turned in to the kitchen, where Fern sat at the table, scrubbing potatoes.

  He set down his joint and other package. “No, Ann. I want to get our marriage plans under way. For Noel.”

  Fern glanced up at him and he spoke to her. “You agree, don’t you, Fern? I want to give Ann and Noel my protection. You as well. I live in a beautiful house. You’ll never want for anything.”

  Fern frowned at her potatoes.

  “No more scrubbing,” he said.

  “Do not say that,” Ann protested. “I still have the inn, after all.”

  “You’ll never have to work a day. Not at The Old Hart, not at Redcake’s. You can focus on Noel and our other, future children. Fern can have a dowry.”

  The girl began to slice the raw potatoes with great deliberation.

  “I brought a joint for dinner,” Gawain said. He pushed the warm package toward Fern. After a minute, she lifted a finger to it and stroked it.

  “I can afford meat for my family,” Ann snapped.

  “I never
said you couldn’t.”

  Fern stared at Ann. She stomped to the table and picked up the package. “Get the potatoes in the water or the joint will be cold before they are done.”

  Fern grinned and jumped up from the table.

  “What is in the other package?”

  “A blanket and rattle for Noel. I know he hasn’t discovered his hands yet, but he’ll have fun with it when he does. And the blanket is very soft. My niece has one just like it.”

  “Is your family well?” she asked in a softer voice.

  “Yes, just a little disruption thanks to our Mr. Bliven. It was also my mother’s birthday. And I announced our engagement. I haven’t told them about Noel yet. I want them to see him.”

  “Are they happy for you?”

  “I’m sure they will be, but since it is known that I had asked for Beth’s hand in marriage, and her fate is still unknown, my announcement is bittersweet.”

  “That poor girl. I wonder what became of her?”

  Gawain shrugged. “Maybe she and Manfred went out to India or one of the other colonies. It will take a long time to find out. But Theodore Bliven has put in an appearance, so I’m sure we’ll find them too, in the end.”

  “Did Mr. Bliven show up down south?”

  “Yes, wanting to see his son.”

  She glanced away. “How are your eyes?”

  “No change as of yet. The mixture still hurts my eye during the application.”

  She nodded. “It’s too soon for anything else. Of course, your limp has returned fully with the traveling.”

  “Your ministrations will be welcome,” he admitted.

  “Then come, while Noel is asleep and the potatoes are cooking.”

  An hour later, she had given him an oil massage and they had eaten dinner. Noel was wrapped in his new blanket. Ann fed him by the fire and Gawain read an old magazine at the kitchen table while Fern darned a pair of her stockings.

  He took surreptitious glances at her, wondering if her speech would ever return. When he and Ann were married, he would take Fern to a psychopathologist. There must be a cure for her muteness. He wondered if she could have seen the killer and not just her brother’s body.

  “Did you see who killed Wells?” he whispered.

  Fern looked up from her darning, her forehead creasing.

  “When you found him, did you see anyone else?”

  She shook her head, not angrily, just confused. And why not? He had asked the question in a random fashion.

  “Do you know who murdered him?”

  She shook her head again, a short, nervous movement.

  “Would you like to know?” he tried.

  She stared at him, then looked down at her stocking, and nodded. Then shook her head no.

  He pulled a notebook from his jacket and a pencil. “Do you know who did it?”

  She took the paper and pencil from him and made a tiny notation in one corner before handing it back. He looked down and found she’d written “10.”

  “Ten pounds? Someone stole ten pounds?”

  She shook her head and pointed to herself.

  “Oh. You’re saying you were only ten years old when Wells died.”

  She nodded.

  “I suppose you are right. Ten is pretty young. But not too young to work, right? We are a lot alike, you and me. I had to work for my family at ten too. In a factory. We weren’t wealthy then.”

  She reached out and clasped the lapel of his jacket between thumb and forefinger.

  “Yes, it’s good cloth. I have plenty of money now. Too much to ever find myself working in a factory again. And you’ll be comfortable too. We’ll find you a good husband and you’ll have a home of your own in a few years.”

  Fern let go of his lapel and took up the pencil again. She drew quickly and he saw her first figure was Ann. Then she drew a man, but scratched a deep cross mark over him, cancelling him out. Then she drew tears coming from the Ann figure’s eyes. So many tears they formed a pool at her feet.

  “She lost a baby too. Not just her husband.”

  Fern drew a smaller figure with arms wrapped around Ann. The baby? No, it was herself, Gawain saw, as she drew long hair and a dress on the child.

  “You love her a great deal,” he observed. “I’ll take good care of her.”

  She stared at him.

  “I won’t let myself be killed. How about that? I survived being a soldier, you know.” He pointed to the scar running down his cheek. “That’s how I got this. A bloodthirsty Pathan took a knife to me after I fell, thanks to a bullet in my hip. Lord Judah Shield, the manager where Ann works, rescued me. Have you met him? He’s a solid fellow. We’ll have to have him to dinner when we’re settled in a new house.”

  She frowned. Probably didn’t like her attention being drawn to his scar. No female did. That’s why he wore the patch over his eye, to hide the worst of it. That part of his cheek displayed not much more than a thin white line these days, but it was puckered at the top. Still, if he got his vision back, he’d throw away the patch and damn the ladies.

  “How about this? I’ll go up to Leeds, talk to your brother and see what he says about Wells. Maybe uncover something for you and Ann. Would you like that?”

  She nodded, then shook her head.

  He decided to take it as a yes. “Very well. I’ll do just that, as soon as we take care of matters at a church, for the wedding.”

  She stared unblinking.

  “You’ll have to have a new dress for the occasion. You and Ann both. What do you think? Shall I accompany you ladies to a dressmaker’s shop after we organize the banns?”

  She bit her lip and nodded.

  “What is your favorite color?” he asked.

  Before she could think of a way to tell him, Ann came into the kitchen. “Noel is back to sleep.”

  He could see a droop in her eyelids. “You look tired.”

  “He woke up hungry three times last night. Usually he’s up only twice.”

  “He just wants to be with his mother. I completely understand.”

  She smiled faintly. “I think I’ll have some hot chocolate and then retire.”

  Fern jumped up and Gawain was touched by how eager the girl was to care for Ann.

  “I have an idea. Let’s go to the local church on Monday and make arrangements to be married. After that, I promised Fern we’d buy you both new dresses for the wedding.”

  “You promised Fern?”

  “Yes, we’re starting to understand each other, I think.” He pulled the sheet of paper from the table as casually as possible and folded it over, not wanting her to see the crossed out image of her late husband.

  “Why don’t we go tomorrow?” said Ann. “Then the first banns can be called on Sunday.”

  He put his hand over his heart and smiled. “Yes, I like that even better. Do you have a parish?”

  She nodded, taking Fern’s chair and pulling it over to him. “We go to the church just around the corner. I’m sure the vicar there will marry us.”

  He leaned over to her and cupped her cheeks with his palms. “That is just the plan. Thank you.”

  Her lips curved and he couldn’t help swooping in for a kiss. Soft lips welcomed his, parting slightly. After a moment of shared breath, he pulled back, smiling at her. He resolved to spend the train journey to Leeds poring over the advertisements for an acceptable house to rent.

  They needed their privacy.

  Chapter Eight

  Gawain was to marry Ann Haldene on March the sixth. The meeting at the church had gone well and the first banns had already been called. As planned, he had boarded the train for Leeds, but only after postponing the trip until Tuesday to have two additional massage treatments from Ann. He had also acquired a companion for his journey.

  He turned his head to Lewis, who was perusing a newspaper. He’d run into his cousin at his club two nights before and over a celebratory glass of champagne had told him about the Leeds trip. Lewis had insisted he come
along since he’d been planning to talk again with the blacksmith they’d met about some metalsmithing.

  “I must say, I thought I was more the domestic type than you are,” Lewis said. “Never thought I’d see you married first.”

  Neither did I. “May I tell you a secret? You can never admit you knew this before Alys.”

  Lewis lifted an eyebrow and set down his newspaper. “Before Alys, Cousin? My, you two have drifted apart.”

  “You must admit, our lives have gone in separate directions. I remember those days when we were factory children and you were our fancy London cousin.”

  “Until my mother died and I came to live with you.”

  “Yes. We thought you’d be a right pain, but you weren’t swelled in the head as we suspected you to be.”

  “Long ago,” Lewis said.

  Gawain suspected the memories were painful, because that was when Lewis had fallen in love with Alys. She hadn’t loved him back and even worse, Sir Bartley had rejected Lewis utterly as a son-in-law.

  Still, Lewis had proved his image of himself to be truer than Sir Bartley’s. He was now a sought-after inventor, with a machine shop and apprentices of his own, and doing very well financially.

  “You just bought a house,” Gawain said as the thought struck him. “I need to buy a house. Any properties suitable for a family near you?”

  “Lots of building going on. Planning for children soon?”

  “That is the secret,” Gawain said, feeling his chest puff. “I am already a father.”

  Lewis lifted his hat and pushed a tousle of blond locks out of his eyes. “You don’t say.”

  Gawain nodded. “It was at the inn after your steam carriage broke down.”

  Lewis put a finger to his lips. “You impregnated the innkeeper?”

  “Yes, that is Ann. I never looked back until the holidays last year when I went back to Leeds, though I thought of her during the long months of searching for Lady Elizabeth. I had no idea until after the child was born. He has red hair, Lewis. Looks just like me.”

  “A boy?”

  “Noel. Born Christmas Day.”

  Lewis laughed. “Congratulations. What a secret to keep.”